Râler

The French word "râler" means "to complain", or something stronger I won't mention on a PG blog.

I've noticed that lately I have written more about fun weekends in Paris or funny things that happened at work and not more of the hassles we've been going through. I guess I figured no one wants to read about me whining. But I don't want to give the impression that we're having nothing but fun or that things are particularly easy right now.

So if you're interested in what kind of weird meat I had for lunch today, I might suggest you not read the rest of this post.

David's Job

Fortune has smiled upon us and David has two companies that have expressed interest in the past week. He's really happy that he'll be able to work soon, but now he's presented with an extremely difficult decision.

Company 1 is McLaren, manufacturer of possibly the coolest cars on the planet. McLarens are even more rare and expensive than Lamborghinis. So you can imagine the stars in my car-loving husband's eyes. It's a dream job.

And it's in England.

Which means he'd be commuting to and from Woking, England (about 3o miles from London) every week. He'd have to find lodging and transportation and open an English bank account (that's right, we'd be dealing with 3 different currencies, 5 different banks).

He'd be working in English, obviously, which is both good and bad because then he wouldn't be learning French.

Company 2 I'm not going to mention by name lest I offend someone. It's an American company, but they have a site near the Charles deGaulle airport in Paris. The job isn't as interesting, and the fate of the division is questionable as the company filed for Chapter 11 last year.

He'd do some interesting travelling and have to pick up French quickly.

So it boils down to: dream job in England, or mediocre job in Paris?

We've been working out the pros and cons for the past four days. And the scales tipped this morning when the offer from McLaren came in. He's still waiting for word from the other one.

I'm biased, naturally. And I'm having a hard time not being selfish and begging him to not leave me alone in Paris for five days a week. But you have to understand, asking David not to take a job with McLaren is like asking a pilot not to take a job as an astronaut. It's an opportunity of a lifetime.

More to come as the situation progresses.

Vacation Time

Last week I learned from Faurecia's headquarters that I had lost five vacation days for the year. They told me that the "rules" had changed, so I assumed that meant everyone lost five days.

Well, then I asked some friends. It seems the company started a sort of 401(k) program that allows employees to give up five vacation days in exchange for a savings account that they'll be able to access when they are in their 60's. Apparently they gave everyone the option, and everyone said 'no' (I love how much the French love their vacation). So they started making it mandatory for all new employees.

Fair enough, except:

1. I'm not a new employee. Ok, I'm new to Méru, but I'm not new to Faurecia. But fine, I'll give them that.

2. My contract states the full vacation time. Doesn't it seem that if HR is going to change details of my contract they'd have to give me some kind of warning? Add an addendum to my contract? Isn't that whole point of a contract?

3. I have my own 401(k) in the States, why do I need one here? And furthermore, I won't even BE here when I'm in my 60's, so how can I expect to see that money?

Ok, now you could argue that I already have an obscene amount of vacation time, which is very true. But the fact that I pretty much had these days stolen from me without a truthful explanation really makes my blood boil. It's the principle!

So now I'm trying to compose a polite e-mail in my head that I can send to HR that will at least get a fair explanation as to how I can expect to see this money or get my vacation days back.

Before I left, my boss in Auburn Hills told me to choose my battles wisely. I was ok letting this one go until they tried to trick me.

My Screwed up Salary

And speaking of being tricked, I got my first paycheck with housing allowance and cost of living adjustment last week. When Dave and I worked out the math, we seemed to be about $800 short. What the h---! (PG...must remain PG) Here's another polite, yet annoyed e-mail to send to HR.

I feel like I spend all of my time and energy fighting something. If it's not the language or French bureaucracy, it's my own company. I don't like fighting. Why can't we all just get along?

Ok, that's the end of my complaining. More on lunch tomorrow.